Chapter Two
I’ve made friends with a tramp. He seems rather nice actually. He’s looked after me, and I’m sure I look a fright. Running through the wilds in bare feet. I don’t think under usual circumstances I’d have looked at him twice. His clothes are old, rumpled, and worse for wear. He doesn’t stink, that’s a definite plus, but that beard eating his face is scary and annoying. I can’t see what he looks like under it, and I suspect he’s actually kinda handsome. He’s got a lovely deep timbre to his voice, and although his accent is most definitely northern I can understand what he’s saying, which is a pleasure and more than I can say for some of the people in the village.
“What do you mean?” Flynn asks, breaking into my reverie.
“Oh, well, I think I should be able to sneak you in to my
